


完璧な苦痛 (Perfect Agony)

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kuroshitsuji Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Underage Sex, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence is the spoiled rich brat, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Angst, Graves is the moody grumpy demon butler, Inspired by Kuroshitsuji, Intercrural Sex, JK there is no plot, M/M, Oops, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Supernatural Elements, ish, magicke use, not orphan credence, thats it thats the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: How do you catch a demon?Why, with a smile.Or, alternatively, accidentally summon one while bored and then ask him to stay and be your butler.





	完璧な苦痛 (Perfect Agony)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CestLeProbleme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CestLeProbleme/gifts).



> [hi its me bringing gradence into everything everyone else loves and ruining it lol]
> 
> inspired originally by this: http://pidrila17.tumblr.com/post/155342634693  
> and conversations with cestleprobleme :*
> 
>  hardly any show knowledge and its mostly bad what i did retain.
> 
> warning, c'est le garbage below/xD

 

Credence has been host to a particularly skilled butler who came out of seemingly thin air for over six months now, and a _devilishly_ handsome one at that. With his family busy running corporations and headquarters, he's left home alone to maintain the estate and all that entails. Lots of downtime arises, and to amuse himself he's taken to teasing the butler.

Graves, that is.

Credence is still the only one who knows the _not quite man’s_ true nature. He doesn’t think he would share even if Graves said it was okay. He _likes_ having a secret all his own.

“Time for your afternoon tea, your lordship.”

Credence winces. He hates that title and tone.

“Graves, honestly. Just call me Mister Barebone and save us all some pain.”

He crosses and uncrosses his legs, wincing again at the tightness of his shorts. The cut is high enough to be restrictive when sitting, but standing, it shows off his long pale legs quite well. One would almost think he was trying to tempt someone.

“Mister Barebone, it’s time for your afternoon tea.”

“Thank you Graves. I’ll take it in my bedroom.”

The butler quirked an eyebrow at him, and withheld the tray.

“I think that you can drink it perfectly fine right here.”

“Are you back talking me, Graves?”

Threatening him will do no good, but when he stands up and notices the butler’s gaze linger around his waist, where a slit of skin shows thanks to his too small shirt and tight shorts, before dropping to eye his legs, _then_ lift back to his face, he knows he has him.

“No _sir_. But I do suggest you stay put here. If you get crumbs in your sheets you may catch ants.”

“Can’t you just zap them, put a trail of salt, something with your magick?”

Graves’ jaw visibly tightens, and he sets the tray down with a crunch of porcelain. Credence barely has a second to comprehend what he’s just done when a strong hand is wrapping around his throat, sliding down to grip his neck and the junction of his shoulder, while slamming him into the wall.

“Do you _intend_ to make me go insane? Will you take to wearing nothing but a robe around the house, undoing the tie little by little until that pretty little cock is visible, just where anyone might see?”

Credence’s jaw drops and he opens his mouth to protest the ‘ _little_ ’ when he’s anything but, as Graves stuffs a napkin into it, halting any speech. He tries to talk around the gag, but it’s too muffled to be anything of substance. If he wasn’t halfway hard before, just getting off on ordering Graves around, he is now.

“You’re indecent and unrepentant, and I’m sick of it. I maybe _belong_ to you, but you don’t own me. Not really. Shut up and stay put or I’ll _make_ you.”

Credence whimpers around the gag, and feels a lot less confident, even though it’s Graves who’s the one falling to his knees, and rubbing his cheek over the side of Credence’s thigh, not the other way around.

He lingers there, breathing hard and heavy, as Credence tries to control his own breathing, before Graves is reaching up and flicking open the button to his shorts, sliding down the zipper, and letting his not so little cock slip from where it’d been tucked into the waistband. He hadn’t been touching himself, technically, but he had been thumbing over the weeping slit all morning, wishing he’d stayed in the shower long enough to jerk off again.

His cock is hard enough to bob against his stomach. Graves’ other hand grips Credence’s waist, painfully so, fingers curling into the skin of his back, under his shirt, burning him, and driving him near mad with need. Graves just stares, in favor of actually touching his cock, for a moment so long he can see a tear of precum drip off the flushed head, and drop to the floor.

“It seems I was mistaken, _my lord_. You’ve been unnecessarily blessed.”

Then his hand fists over Credence, firmly stroking the entire length of it, as his knees give out. If not for the hold on his hip, he’d have fallen. Graves lets go of him, and his hips thrust forward, seeking out contact, so he leans back, evading. There’s likely some magick at play too, cushioning Credence’s spine against the wall, and his head doesn’t hurt from being manhandled around.

Graves smirks, and then leans in to just ghost a breath over the head, still dripping slowly, a small puddle of precome liable to build up if the man doesn’t fucking _do_ something.

Credence whines into the gag again, and splays his palms flat against the wall, indicating his total submission. He’s ready, he’s dying to be touched.

 _‘P l e a s e_ Graves.’

It won’t be obvious what he’s said through the gag, but Graves’ answering wink tells Credence that he heard and understood, somehow. All at once, he gets what he asked for, Graves’ mouth, open and wet and warm, surrounds the head of his cock, though the hand on him keeps him from bucking forward too far again, and the man’s other hand presses _hard_ on his chest, right above his heart, before two fingers pluck at his nipple, aching and budded beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Credence wants to curse, he wants to cry, but he’s not going to give in so quickly, not when days and weeks and months have been building to this. This, this perfect agony of Graves’ finally giving into him.

Anyone else who might have summoned a demon would have done this from the start, Credence suspects. After all, a seduction demon or personal slave, they were likely very popular and common among selections. But he hadn’t a clue as to what he’d been doing, just fucking around originally, then of course he’d landed Graves. The sheer magnitude of his attractiveness wasn’t accidental, it couldn’t have been.

Credence has been going to bed and instantly reaching for his cock every night since Graves came to him. Every morning in the shower, every chance he can sneak away for a _‘nap,_ ’ he tolerates the bouts of teasing, being told of course boys ‘his age’ need naps like toddlers and rowdy children. Graves cannot possibly have any idea the sheer amount of kleenex Credence has wasted to clean himself up, or how much of his own semen he’s consumed at times when he’s too lazy to reach for the box. The poor shower drain could tell so many tales of his debauchery, and if Graves wanted to, he could just ask to look inside Credence’s head to understand how pathetic and long suffering Credence’s crush has been.

Now, now, at last, Graves has him pinned to the wall and is sucking his cock like the stuff of life is in it, and all Credence wants is to touch him, pet his hair, stroke his cheek and murmur pleas and vows of adoration, but he can’t for the damned gag, and _something_ else holding his hands in place. He knows he talks a lot, it’s a term of endearment, it’s a critique, he’s a walking chatterbox and a spoiled rich brat, he knows. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a heart!

Graves hums around him, and laves his tongue with more speed and purpose against the underside of Credence’s cock, and his eyes roll back into his head, forcing him to break the stare they’d been holding, as he comes harder than he can ever remember in the last few months.

Nothing beats the real deal, and no fantasy can come close to this. Credence’s orgasm makes him see white light, and sparks explode behind his eyes, as his hips jolt against his will, trying to thrust deeper, fucking into Graves’ throat like it’s all he needs in the world. He can _feel_ the man smirking even as he swallows around his cock.

“Fuck. You taste so sweet. How is that, I’ve been around so many centuries and no brat has ever been so delicious?”

Credence moans around the gag, and tries to plead without words for Graves to back off, to let him go, even though he’s half afraid he may fall onto the ground without an anchor holding him up.

Instead of doing any of that, Graves merely pulls his shorts off the rest of the way with one hand before tossing them away, then stands up and scoops him into his arms, bridal carry style, before taking off in an unknown direction. _Everything_ is a mystery and nothing is real but for Graves’ touch, as Credence still comes down from his orgasmic high.

He’s shivering within moments, though he’s been half naked all day anyway, the house has not been cold, but Graves’ mouth was warm, his hands are hot, and Credence never wants him to let go. The butler does, in the end, only to set Credence down on a soft and silky thing that yields to his body at once. Oh. They’re in his room _now_.

“I’m going to take the gag out, only so I can hear you scream while I fuck you, got it?”

Credence’s eyes go wide, and Graves twirls his fingers as red sparks and black smoke fill the air from his magick seeping out, dissolving the gag and the shirt he had on, along with all of the butler’s clothes.

“Fuck… you really want to? I’d be happy to just suck you off too-”

Graves’ finger lands on his lips, halting his speech once again. He doesn’t just lay there idly, he opens his mouth and lets the man press two fingers in, wetting them thoroughly even as he considers suckling them, tempted to show off.

“I’m sick of acting like I don’t have a purpose here, beyond waiting on you hand and foot, and helping you dress in the mornings. I know how much you jerk your precious dick and I know that I could help with _that_ instead. We both want it. So tell me, now or never. If you want me to go back to pretending _this_ isn’t a thing.”

Graves pets a hand down his bared chest, and wraps his hand around Credence’s renewed erection, giving him a steady stroke, ripping a gasp from his throat.

“Y-yes… Graves you’ve known?”  


_How long_ , isn’t the right question. _Why haven’t you done anything until now,_ is the best one.

 

“I’m not an idiot Mister Barebone. I’m a demon. You may wrongly consider me to be just your pet.” Credence sat up, jaw dropping to express the exact opposite sentiment, only for Graves’ hand to curve around his face, cupping his cheek, and shush him with a kiss, before the hand on his cock shifted away. The next thing Credence knew, his butler was kneeling between his legs, which he couldn’t remember opening, and dipping down to kiss his neck, biting hard.

“Oh... _fuck,_ me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Graves has to be smiling against his skin, he just has to, Credence knows it like breathing. Both of the man’s hands slide over his thighs to squeeze at his ass, before a hot and tingling _something_ is wet on his cleft, and slick fingers press over his hole, slowly circling and massaging the rim.

“Oh god, oh god.”

“There’s no god here, only me.”

“You’re not-”

Graves kisses him again, harder, silencing him once more, and the next thing Credence knows, he’s being speared open on two thick fingers, which then curl against something, while he tries not to come immediately. He tries to focus on Graves’ cock instead, and his hands fumble for it, trying to touch and feel and taste what he can. The man’s skin is spicy, like cinnamon and sweet honey, heavy and cloying on his tongue, even as he imitates the nip he received by fairly nibbling right back against Graves’ shoulder, he feels a chuckle at his efforts.

“Hold onto me, there’s a good boy.”

Credence scowls at the term, but wraps his arms around Graves’ neck and shoulders, as he feels the fingers leave him bereft and aching for a long moment, until something _hotter_ and thicker pushes into him, and his nails dig into the man’s skin.

So _this_ is what it’s like to be fucked.

Graves huffs out a breath against his cheek, and smoothly pulls out to slide in again. A steady rhythm of thrusting back and forth harder, and faster, until Credence thinks he may just cry anyway because of how _good_ and glorious it feels. He can’t say as to the exact second he comes, but it’s quick and steals his breath away, as well as his focus.

One moment he’s relishing how Graves’ voice almost breaks on a moan and the next, his chest is slicked with warmth and his cock is going soft on his stomach.

“Fuck. My lord, you’re tight.”

It’s over in seconds, and Credence can’t swear to it, but Graves’ eyes almost glow red as he comes, hips stuttering against his ass, while he _feels_ the butler’s cock empty inside him, buried deep as he can go.

“Graves… you can call me Credence, if you really want. It’s just us.” Graves shifts back and groans. Before Credence can ask why, the man has bent over to kiss his chest, tongue warm and mouth insistent against his skin, he realizes the butler is _cleaning_ him. He squirms at the feel, but it’s so good and so much all at once, he’s oversensitive from just coming. He doesn’t want Graves to touch his cock again, but he also kind of does.

“You’re so sweet, it belies your spoiled nature.”

Credence stumbles over himself to make excuses, but he knows, deep down, Graves is right. Pure boredom and lack of usefulness caused him to bring the demon butler into his life in the first place, why bother denying the truth?

Graves keeps going, curse him.

When he’s on his elbows between Credence’s jelly weak legs and licking down the length of his soft cock, he can’t hold back his tears anymore. They fall down his cheeks, burning the whole way, and a sob catches on the lump in his throat.

“Please, Graves, it _hurts_.”

“Just wait.”

Torture, this was simply that, but with a sweeter sting. Graves went lower, pressing his tongue into Credence, from where his own come still oozed out slowly, and he was on the verge of crying out and bucking the man off, if not for the two very strong hands firmly bracing on his hips. He still shivers, and blinks away the tears that attempt to blur his vision.

“You’re going to make me-”

“Yes?”

Credence gasps and does so instead of trying to put it to words, cock pulsing on his stomach, barely hard, but somehow the slow teasing touches and sensations of Graves kissing him, attempting to devour him whole is plenty stimulation enough. Magick is what makes him feel as if he could simultaneously be set afire and frozen by how tender and patient and just… too good for him Graves is.

He could easily hurt Credence up to a point, he could deny him everything he ever wanted, but he’s never abused his power. Not once.

Graves speaks, something he can’t make out and Credence writhes again, desperate to escape him, to return the favor, god, he’s never wanted to get down on his knees and blow _anyone_ outside of porn so bad in his life. His short, hardly beginning life. Wherein everything is pre-planned and designed for him.

God. He wants to run away to the caribbean with Graves and never come back.

“You’re beautiful, you know it. But there’s something else. I think you may have brought me here by accident, but this… this isn’t normal. People don’t _resist_ Incubi for this long. Half a year.”

Credence gapes at him,

“What?”

Graves smirks, and sits back up, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand, before chuckling, and rolling onto his side, bringing Credence with him, into an extremely tactile naked embrace.

“Credence… do you ever read anything with _any_ discernment?”

“No?”

He fairly squeaks and Graves kisses his sweaty shoulder,

“You’re impossible. You need a real set of servants, not just me. Even with my powers, I cannot hope to continue serving you properly. I couldn’t even get you to drink your tea.”

“You’ve, you’re the perfect butler, Graves. Don’t talk like that.”

Credence hugs the man, inhaling deeply. The scent of his skin is so much _more_ than he could ever describe, but under it all, there’s that spice, a hint of ash and sulfur. Graves’ true origins are never going to be a mystery if anyone else gets close enough, while he’s clad in a suit or cooking in the kitchen, drowning it out in the wonderful smells of a meal.

“Yes, well. You need someone who isn’t constantly luring you to sin, driving you to distraction. Oh wait, that’s you.”

A pinch of his ass, and then a sharp slap brought him out of the dreamlike state his orgasms had put him in. More of a haze really.

“Graves-s-s… you’re being rude.”

“Mhm, perhaps you just deserve a spanking.”

“You’re-”

He blinks very rapidly, as a flush follows Graves’ hand, from Credence’s cock up to his chest, fingers curling around his throat once more,

“Turn around, and keep your legs together.”

Credence gulps, and tries to do so, but his limbs are shaky and want to disobey his bodies commands, so he sort of flops over, and lets Graves heft him back into his arms, flush against the man’s chest, with his cock pressed into his ass.

“Goodness, you seem to be worn out. Should I leave you be for your nap, baby?”

Credence grits his teeth, and musters as much authority as he can manage, despite being a bit weak still from the thorough fucking,

“Graves, shut up and fuck me.”

“Don’t make me gag you again. I like your pretty mouth being free to be kissed.”

Graves purrs into his ear, holding his head back, not by his hair, but with his palm cupped over his forehead and sliding down to cover his eyes in a makeshift blindfold, so all Credence knows is his voice, his touch, and the heat of his butler’s cock slipping between his thighs.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Graves’ hips roll, and slowly he begins to thrust forward, the friction filled drag that might be painful if Credence was any less than blissed out, and instead, when the head of the man’s cock nudges under Credence’s balls and against his own soft cock, he cries out.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’ll add some lubrication, shall I? Open your mouth now.”

The man’s other hand leaves his hip, and two fingers dip into his mouth, which he drools around, and muffles his own graphic insults with.

“What was that?”

Credence stills, somehow the man heard him?

He swallows, and the fingers withdraw, while Graves’ cock keeps moving, or perhaps it’s simply throbbing against his skin, and _he’s_ the one who’s shaking.

“‘Fuck me harder Daddy?’”

“Is that right? You see me as a fatherly sort of figure? A replacement for your dear old papa?”

“No!”

Graves’ answering laugh manages to make him fully hard, and when it’s followed by a growl and a nip at his ear, and down the nape of his neck, he shivers.

“Oh, you’ve been holding out on me. All this time I thought you got off on me calling you ‘sir’ and ‘your lordship,’ when you just wanted to call me _‘Daddy?’_ How cute.”

Credence has no argument, no comeback, he just lets his head fall back against Graves’ shoulder, and tries to blink pathetically at him before croaking out a plea.

Sudden slickness between his thighs makes him wonder if Graves has just come from that, from making Credence beg alone, but no, it’s simply to ease the way, and the butler’s powerful thighs begin to move again, as his cock continues to thrust in and out of his legs.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty, Daddy’s good little boy aren’t you? Hmm?”

Credence’s eyes are squeezed tight as his legs, but he shudders on a breath as tears spill out. He’s overwhelmed, and he doesn’t want it to end, well, ever. Graves moves against him, behind him, holding him tight, whispering further filth and teasing him with touches that never land, and not once does he touch Credence’s cock, which is now just aching, curving hard up to his stomach, smearing precum on his skin and probably dripping onto the sheets.

“Fuck… Daddy... please… let me come.”

None of it and all of it together can’t help him get off, not the nibbling of Graves’ teeth on his neck or the soothe of his tongue and lips for the sting, his hands are both bracing on the arm across his chest, and the one on his hip drifts back, lower, thumbing over his still slippery hole.

“That right baby? You think you deserve to come before me?”

“Yes!”

“Wrong.”

Credence feels them shift, and he’s shoved into the mattress, face down in the pillows before he can blink, with Graves kneeling between his legs now, and only touching him with one hand splayed over his lower back, as the wet sound of his own hand fisting over his cock fills Credence’s ears.

The reason he’s crying now, is just from pure need and denial, while Graves lets out a bark of a laugh, he mewls into the bed.

“Daddy you’re not playing fair.”

“Baby, you’re ahead of me. Fair means Daddy get’s to come three more times.”

Credence gasps, and then hears Graves’ answering groan, along with several wet ropes of come that land over his skin, painting his back and down his thighs.

“Fuck. Your ass is too cute to be kept hidden. I wish you didn’t have to wear clothing at all.”

 _‘We’re alone in the house almost all the time, I don’t have to.’_ lingers on the tip of his tongue, before Graves’ hand pets down over his ass, and then slaps him again. He’s about to complain, until he feels two fingers thrusting into his hole, without warning. Credence bites down on the pillow to muffle his yelp, and then it turns into a squeak when the rough fingering finds his prostate. Credence’s hips roll into the bed, and his cock twitches under his stomach, spilling slow spurts as his orgasm is forced through him, and the next thing he knows, Graves is collapsing atop him, pinning him to the bed, nuzzling his cheek against Credence’s shoulder.

“I wanna run away.”

He speaks into the bed, but he knows Graves hears him. The man shifts away, and puts a hand on his arm, stroking softly, before Credence dares to look at him.

“Where would you go?”

Graves doesn’t seem concerned, merely curious.

Credence licks his lips, and tries not to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. But he does anyway.

“The ocean.”

“Why’s that? You have a magnificent pool. A pond to fish in. More land than you could walk around in a day.”

Credence scowls again,

“Yes. But some days it all feels like an elaborate prison. I want to run on the sand… taste the salty air, and swim in water that hasn’t been chemically treated.”

“It’s full of fish piss.”

Credence rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. That’s not why people travel to the ocean to feel it on their skin.”

“I see what you’re saying, Credence. But I suppose, if you want to go, you should ask your parents permission first. Then go.”

He wasn’t getting it. Man of the devil, powerful beyond Credence’s wildest dreams, and he was not understanding truly what he was saying.

He reached over and grabbed at Graves’ mussed hair, bringing their faces together, close enough to share the same breath,

“Come with me.”

Barely a second passed, before Credence felt the man nodding, and then he surged forward the final inch, kissing him. He was happy to lay there and continue doing so, until the last vestiges of his strength left him, and exhaustion began to creep over him. Damn Graves, he _did_ need a nap after a day like that. But the butler didn’t leave him, or even try, he merely held him, as Credence fell asleep against his chest, and his own arms went slack around the man.

  
  


* * *

 

 

**END**


End file.
